


A Stray Kitten

by thatskyquill



Category: Faith (Airdorf Video Game), Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Priests, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatskyquill/pseuds/thatskyquill
Summary: Written for fun. In an AU that Donato is in John's church, he lures the other priest into a false sense of comfort.
Relationships: Donato Porpora & John Ward
Kudos: 3





	A Stray Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Per the convention, Donato is addressed as “Father” followed by his last name.
> 
> He is difficult to write as a manipulative character, so I apologize for any out-of-character inaccuracies.

John looks around. Nothing seems to be amiss. Everything is adequately cleaned, with the objects placed properly and organized, which means no more task for now. He walks through other rooms and yes, he indeed has cleaned them too with as much responsibility as he reckons. He wanders to the main hall; who knows the grand place can hide any overlooked mess.

Partially exhausted, he loiters between aisles under the pretense to detect any food, dust, or any minor litter — and hey there, Father Porpora seated on the pews — but really just to reassure himself that he did his best, he has checked any corner, and he doesn’t have to do any work so he can go home sooner or later — except not really, he shouldn’t wish with such vanity. Some litter could be hiding behind those statues, so off he goes to check for them. But it’s well past the hours now, he’s just closed the doors, so this place is so damn dark that even the light from the sky or behind other doors don’t help illuminating every spot. It may be a sign, it may not be, but John’s had it. He turns around and heads back to the front for a rest, but probably not for long; Father Garcia better not be worried or worse suspect him for evading duty —

“I’ve cleaned the place more thoroughly; sorry that I forgot to tell you that,” Father Porpora states casually just as he passes, making him stop in his tracks.

“Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it.” John smiles at him in gratitude.

”You’re welcome. It has been a long day, isn’t it? Must be really tiring.” He turns and returns the look with his steely blue eyes. His old smile looks tired too, so guilt stirred in his heart.

“Yeah, of course. You did a great job too.” Naturally, John shuffles and sits beside him. “It’s hard work, but at least we keep the church clean, and I’m happy I’m part of it.”

“Hard in what way?” The other priest’s stare persists. “Is it draining?”

“No no no.” John shakes his head, smiling and embarrassed. “It’s just a lot but I’m not complaining.”

“There’s something else draining you, John. The work weighs on you more than it should. Best to let it out before it stops you from doing your duties well.” The priest rests a hand upon his shoulder. “Something’s been troubling you these days. Let me help you.”

Oh, Father Porpora: a new face in the American church, reputed to comprehend others’ difficulties and handle them well with an understanding smile and soul-seeing eyes. And now here they are, the ice piercing deep into his soul. Secrets flash before his eyes: the girl, the house, her bloody face … True that he needs salvation from them, but they are anchored deep in their hideaway, shackled altogether in a monstrous clump. What would they become if unravelled? He can’t know, ~~doesn’t want to know.~~

The other man looks around yet his gentle tone still doesn’t change. _Thank God._ “Well it’s past the hours now, my child. Given the rest we can talk about what troubles us at this moment. We’ve got a whole day ahead of us tomorrow, so best to use this spare time now; it’s now or never.” He smiles sympathetically, his brow furrowing pitiously. “For me, I have done horrible, unspeakable ... things before priesthood, and I’m still trying to clean myself by serving for God. Like the others, I strive to follow His steps, but I am also … one of the few with blood on his hands.” His eyes leave John, as do their cold hold — and John begins to realize he is not alone — before fixating back on him. “Now I find solace in the community, but … as selfish as it is … I also yearn for ...” His stare leaves him again, and this time they don’t return for a long while, as troubled as the brief twitch in his comforting hand.

John knows how that feels, how desperate it can be to want. But to utter it out loud is a sin of selfishness, so he has to answer not out loud.

“ _To find people like you._ ”

He finds himself able to look in the blue eyes to face their ice, lone on the Arctic water, part of the world yet out of its reach. Father Porpora still gazes blankly ahead, but nods knowingly.

Maybe he hates to admit it. Maybe he has been rejecting it subconsciously, never taking it as a possibility of a solution. Maybe it’s fate’s offer of salvation.

At long last, John finds the distant, abstract, yet existent sense of home. He wants to reach for it. He wants to share the pain.

How desperate he wants to share the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Donato is a manipulative liar, just as John is an unreliable narrator. The narrative relies on John’s skewered perception as Donato’s speeches, especially proclaiming to serve for God and past (and ceased) wrongdoings, are riddled with dishonesty.


End file.
